


Not All Bad

by rainfall



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Sherlock is kind of a jerk, but what else is new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:06:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainfall/pseuds/rainfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus took a slow, deep breath. He reminded himself that, whatever the crisis was, Sherlock hadn't actually <i>caused</i> it. Probably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not All Bad

**Author's Note:**

> For [Ana](http://lovelies.dreamwidth.org/), and the prompt _there may be hope for you yet; telephone calls_. ♥
> 
>  
> 
> (also, ps: [doing a drabble challenge meme on my dw](http://rainfalling.dreamwidth.org/46714.html), anons and open id people also welcome ♥)

Marcus paused, eyeing the caller ID on his cell phone. He let it ring twice while he finished undoing his cufflinks, then sighed and brought the phone to his ear with a flick of his thumb.

"I'm on vacation," he told it.

"And yet, _eminently available_ ," said the familiar crisp voice on the other end, without even the slightest trace of shame. "I'm well-aware of your schedule, Detective Bell. As aware of it as you are aware that I would not be calling without good reason."

Damn this man. Marcus kneaded the bridge of his nose. Mentally, he resigned himself to the no-longer-refundable plane tickets; maybe the hotel reservation could still be salvaged, if he worked fast. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Get on with it, Sherlock."

"You're quite sure?" Amusement now from the voice in his ear. "I've interrupted nothing _pressing_?"

As if he didn't know exactly what he'd interrupted. Marcus took a slow, deep breath. He reminded himself that, whatever the crisis was, Sherlock hadn't actually _caused_ it. Probably. "I'm sure."

" _Excellent_. Then look out your window."

Marcus resisted the urge to glance at his bedroom window. For one thing, the blinds were drawn -- and besides, it wasn't like he lived on the _ground floor_ or anything. So Sherlock was _not_ right outside his window, peering in at him like a creepy weirdo.

Nope. No way, no how.

He looked anyway, cursed himself, and then got up off the edge of his bed to wedge a crack between two blinds with his fingers.

And there was Sherlock, down on the pavement thank god, looking up at him. The man even had the gall to wave cheerfully.

"Hello, Detective!" he said into the phone.

"You don't think you could've maybe saved us both some time and called me _before_ you came all the way down here?"

"We can discuss cell phone reception on the New York subway system another time," Sherlock said. "There's also the little matter of security. You migh've hung up on me. This way, I have another recourse at my immediate disposal."

_I wouldn't have hung up on you._

A few weeks ago, maybe. Two months ago, probably. But a lot had changed since then.

Sherlock had saved his life, his reputation -- his _career_. The kind of debt you couldn't just walk away from.

"Where's Joan?" he said, instead of any of that.

Silence.

Marcus felt something cold twist in his stomach, but then Sherlock's voice was saying smoothly, "Waiting for us at the morgue. She felt her time would be better spent examining the bodies, and I found myself hard-pressed to disagree," and he was torn between relief and incredulity.

" _Bodies_? More than one."

"That is the general usage of the word, yes. Curious thing -- no toxins, no marks of any kind... well, at least nothing we've found yet. And the victims would appear to be completely unrelated to one another!"

 _Curious thing._ For some reason, Marcus was smiling. "I'll be right down."


End file.
